Sometimes, Merlin wonders
by Minkey222
Summary: Sometimes, Merlin wonders. He sits on the highest parapet when he can steal only but a moment, and he thinks.


**The second part to 'Sometimes, Merlin dreams'. Don't worry, there will be another part in which he finds inner peace, but for now. There is this.**

 **Please Review, it makes my day. (It makes me write more 3)**

 **IDONOTOWNMERLIN**

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Sometimes, Merlin wonders.

He sits on the highest parapet when he can steal only but a moment, and he thinks. Often, his thoughts wander through the kept gardens when he keeps his hopes pruned like rose bushes, his dreams washing over his skin like the gentlest of summer breezes, the sun beams casting a warm glow. And he feels, in that second, that if he were able to get higher still if he could climb the highest tree, if he could conquer the tallest mountain. If only he could just do that then in his sight would be the golden hues of Albion. The shining rays of his future and of his destiny. The pearly shimmer of gratitude and love. He feels that in this garden, just out of reach, is this goal. Just out of arm's reach is peace. But he can see it.

Oh yes, he can see it.

And, oh, does he long for it.

Other times, his mind would find a quiet corner and sit in wait as it allowed his body to just be. Most of the time sat so high up above the world that seems to exist purely to act as his prison, he wonders and fantasises about what it would be to be truly free. Casting his gaze over the busy city that is his home and his entrapment, raking his mind over his feelings in the way that only a worn farmer knows how he sits still. He breathes. His lungs expanding as they draw in the crisp air. His eyes blink. So slowly. A moment alone in the sun. A moment to just be. His hair tickles the base of his neck- he doesn't mind so much. His skin is cool and dry. This is peace, somewhat. It's not real. He knows that it's not real -it can't be real- too much is going on for this to truly be peace. But it is an instant in which his heart beats calmly, where he is so serene, his worries at a standstill. The world is quiet, even the trees have calmed to match his pace. Every breath is counted in a ripple of water, a gust of wind. Every leaf that falls is so tranquil.

But it is over in a second.

The world is too big and yet, still too small for him. He is too small and yet, still too big for his destiny.

Sometimes, Merlin wonders.

About his destiny and the dragon's words. The way they alway push into him and pull him into the ground. The way they lead him by the hand onto the highest parapet and sit by his side whilst he questions whether or not he would die if he fell from this height. Sometimes, his heart beats too fast and sit uneasily in his chest. Sometimes, his lungs refuse the air he offers. Sometimes, his mind becomes the serpent, whispering lies into his ears that yearn for any contact, any noise other than the howling of the wind and harsh crashing of the rain on his shoulders as he stands up so high, so, so high- up higher than any mountain or tree. He stands on the ledge just trying to see if gets any closer. How much closer does he have to be to see even the edges of Albion? How much further?

Just a little bit further, the serpent whispers.

Only a little bit further.

He stops himself before his foot leaves the safety of the castle. Before he can fly free. He can feel the chain clamp back on his ankle. He can feel the bindings of his destiny, pulling his back and back. So far back, his shoulders hit the wall. His lungs don't refuse the air, anymore. His eyes slide shut as he sinks to the floor.

Sometimes, Merlin wonders.

He never stops thinking. He can never stand up against the typhoon of thoughts and the siege of knowledge. He can never cut the head off of the serpent because every time he does it grows two more in its place. It never stops the ringing in his head. The pull and punch of the words that everybody seems to give so freely, too willingly. Everybody speaks too much, laughs too much, breathes too much-

He exhales.

He looks down.

He is broken down like a weary traveller. Like a man who has been denied respite too much and too often.

He is small and weak and the only thing that Merlin wonders anymore is,

How much further?


End file.
